Could It Be Real
by aehawthorne
Summary: Sharing an intimate moment with Constantine when he visits her cabin on the Waverider unexpectedly doesn't stop Sara from questioning whether there's anything truly real between them


Constantine was nothing like Oliver. Sara was well aware of that. Perhaps the only thing they had in common was brokenness and a shadow behind their eyes. But Constantine had that same way of looking at her that Oliver had had that made her feel _seen_. Understood. Like he looked deep within her and saw the shadows in her heart, the stains on her soul, and accepted them as a part of her that couldn't be ignored or set aside. Much as she loved Ava, she hadn't felt that with her, and after Oliver she hadn't thought she'd ever feel it again. And yet here she was. She sighed and stretched toward the empty half of her bed, not sure in that moment if she wanted it to be occupied by Ava or by Constantine.

A knock sounded at Sara's door, the ringing sound of fists on metal startling her from her thoughts. She could have told Gideon to open the door, but she got up to answer it herself. Old habits died hard, apparently.

"My ears were burning," Constantine said, standing in the hallway outside her door. He held up a bottle of scotch with the same wicked smile that had drawn her in in that asylum laundry room.

"Didn't think that was a real thing," Sara muttered, and stepped aside to let him in. It was taking some getting used to, having him aboard the Waverider, right there when she needed him, and even when she didn't. She hadn't decided how she felt about it yet.

Constantine unscrewed the cap from the bottle and let it fall to the floor, clattering away somewhere for Sara to find later and hopefully smile at the memory of this night. If she even ended up remembering it. Constantine's aim seemed to be to drink until they forgot. He took a long pull from the bottle and offered it to her. She took it, took a swig, and flopped down onto her bed. After a moment, she tugged Constantine down beside her. He took a seat on the edge of the mattress, looking apprehensive. Sara passed him the bottle without a word. As the alcohol began to do its work of lowering their inhibitions, they fell into conversation, something they weren't particularly inclined to under normal circumstances.

Sara soon lost track of how much time had passed as they sat on her bed talking and passing the bottle back and forth, their conversation dissolving into laughter more and more often as they descended deeper and deeper into intoxication. At one point, Constantine giggled, and that was so intensely hilarious to Sara in her inebriated state that she collapsed into a fit of laughter, falling back against her pillows. She caught hold of Constantine's sleeve and pulled him down with her, so that he was lying angled across her bed, his dark eyes locked with her blue ones. They found themselves drifting closer together, until Constantine's breath was fanning across Sara's face and suddenly she _wanted_. Wanted _him._ She moved to close the distance between them and he pulled back, a surprising- and disappointing- reaction.

"Seems like you've had a little bit to drink, love," he said softly, offering her a lopsided smile that stirred a feeling in her that she might have called love if she'd cared in that moment to describe it.

"I've had a lot to drink," she countered, unashamed, and for a moment it felt like this had happened before, like she and Constantine were just repeating events that had already happened to someone else. Before she had the time to ponder that further or wonder if it was a side effect of time travel that Rip Hunter had neglected to tell her about, she was yanking Constantine toward her and kissing him with a fervor that surprised her as much as it did him. He responded with a similar fervor, his kisses rough and hungry. They shed their clothes with wild abandon, falling back against the mattress. They lost themselves in sensation, exploring every single inch of each other for the second time. Constantine ran his hands over Sara's scars, reverent, his touch an acknowledgement of everything she had endured to earn them. Not like Ava, whose hands had always skimmed over them as if afraid to touch them, but more like Nyssa and Oliver, whose touch had always lingered on them for a single breathless instant in homage to past pain.

Later, as they lay on Sara's bed in a tangle of limbs, Constantine drowsing against Sara's shoulder, Sara had time and reason to reflect on where she stood with Constantine as far as her feelings. She couldn't deny that she felt an attraction to him, and that that attraction was mutual, but she doubted whether it could be anything more than that.

"Stop thinking so loud love," Constantine soothed, lifting his head from her shoulder. His tone was so serious that it made Sara wonder if he really was reading her mind. "Whatever it is that's eating at you, maybe I can help you with it. I've had a quite a bit of experience wrestling with the demons in my own mind."

"I think my demons might be too strong even for you," Sara replied morosely. Constantine shrugged.

"We'll never know unless we try," he said.

"I just...don't know if this is real," Sara explained hesitantly. "I don't know if there's anything genuine between us, or if we're nothing but damaged souls using each other to forget how the world has broken us." Constantine kissed her then, deep and lingering. She responded automatically, without thinking, pulling him closer to her as if she wanted to fuse the two of them into one, never to separate.

"Did that feel real to you?" Constantine asked when they finally pulled apart. Sara thought for a long moment.

"Yes," she answered at last. "Yes, it did."


End file.
